


never knew the best was yet to come

by lco123



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-22 22:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8302955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lco123/pseuds/lco123
Summary: The world is not going to end. Life is really good, and really stable. 
  And suddenly all Laura can think about is having a baby. Laura and Carmilla's journey into parenthood. There may be a few bumps in the road. Spoilers for the series finale.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've never written anything for Carmilla, but that finale gave me a lot of feelings about the possibilities that a mortal Carmilla brings. I know some people are sad she's no longer a vampire, but I'm actually really happy that she gets to live a normal human life with Laura. 
> 
> This is entirely fluff, and is meant to be set a couple of years after the movie. For the sake of this story, let's pretend they fought some new evil but ultimately everything worked out just fine. Because that's what's going to happen, right? Fingers crossed.
> 
> Title from "Lullaby" by the Dixie Chicks.

It’s probably not a great sign when Laura starts comparing her life to _Grey’s Anatomy_ , and the comparison makes her start to cry.

Not, like, _crying_ crying. More like a frustrating little prick in the corner of her eyes, subtle but impossible to ignore. She’s never even watched a full episode of _Grey’s_ ; years ago, she’d done what any good lesbian learns to do, and binged all the gay scenes on YouTube. She feels a fair amount of kinship with Arizona Robbins. 

Ultimately, eighteen-year-old Laura Hollis thought Callie and Arizona were absolutely ridiculous for not discussing the topic of having kids until they were in so deep, and for that issue to ultimately tear their relationship apart for a significant portion of the show. It seemed so easy to avoid, so unlikely that a couple could be that committed and not have even talked about the subject.

Until twenty-six-year-old Laura Hollis finds herself in the same situation.

Okay, not the same situation. Not by a mile, really. She and Carmilla are actually significantly more committed to one another after eight years together, and they have talked, very fleetingly and very theoretically, about kids, but it’s more been in the “wow, they seem like a lot of work” and “isn’t it nice to have our independence” way.

Which—yes, it is. And the idea of kids would have seemed ridiculous in the days of fighting unspeakable evil after unspeakable evil, and in the years Carmilla spent adjusting to her mortality.

But now things have settled down, and they have a house with a mortgage and a car and that damn motorcycle. They have a few house plants that Carmilla has to remind Laura not to overwater and a dog that Laura knows Carmilla loves way more than she’ll ever admit. 

Laura’s job is going really well—she _loves_ it, and she’s good at it; she can tell that her students genuinely like her each semester. The two of them spent a few years figuring out what Carmilla liked to do (besides Laura), before realizing that what she really had a knack for was forming scathing opinions on other people’s writing, so she’s been working as a book critic for the last couple of years.

They aren’t married, but that’s partially because it doesn’t feel like they have to, right now. The world is not going to end. Life is really good, and really stable. 

And suddenly all Laura can think about is having a baby.

\--

In case anyone’s asking, the person Laura officially blames for putting her in this situation is her friend Jennifer. Who, in actuality, did nothing wrong, except have a baby of her own.

And Laura’s never been one to get excited about babies; she honestly never really thought she’d be a mother, always figuring she’d be too busy traversing the globe as a journalist. Mostly, she hadn’t put much thought into the subject.

But then Jennifer walked in with her unbelievably adorable two-week-old son, asked if Laura wanted to hold him, and everything changed. Laura found herself _obsessed_. And, frustratingly, absolutely terrified.

“You and Carmilla have faced everything together,” Jennifer points out one afternoon as they’re sipping hot chocolate in Laura’s office. She’s been trying to solve Laura’s problem for the last several weeks, likely aware that her magnificent offspring is partially the reason for Laura’s latest tailspin. “Just talk to her.”

“I know!” Laura replies with a dash more defensiveness than is necessary. “I know I need to talk to her. I have no idea where she even stands on this. But I just—”

“You’re scared that she’ll hate the idea,” Jennifer supplies. “And the longer you avoid the conversation, the longer you can not know if she hates it.”

Laura frowns. “Yeah,” she says sullenly.

Jennifer offers her a small smile. “Carmilla would give you the world. You know that.”

“I do,” Laura replies. “But I don’t want her to agree to have a baby with me because she knows how badly I want one. I want her to want one herself.”

“Talk to Carmilla,” Jennifer repeats.

Laura exhales. “I will.”

\--

Why is she being such a chicken? Well, it’s because, in her heart of hearts, Laura feels like she already knows Carmilla’s answer.

Indeed, after centuries of living, who would want to take care of a baby? Carmilla spent so many years as an eighteen-year-old that she surely made that decision long ago. 

And on top of the she's-a-former-vampire of it all, this is _Carmilla_. Much more of a sap than she’ll ever admit, but not the most outwardly nurturing person in the world.

Though Laura knows that she can be, and in fact she believes that Carmilla would make an excellent mother. But if she doesn’t want to be one, Laura could probably live with that. 

No, of course she could live with that. She loves Carmilla beyond reason, beyond life and death. She would give up everything to be with her.

So as a way of protecting her heart, Laura's been repeating it like a mantra: _Don’t get your hopes up. She doesn’t want kids. She doesn’t, and it’ll be okay._

Yet there’s that little sliver of Laura’s mind that can’t help chanting in return, _But what if she does?_

\--

Laura decides to finally have the talk a few nights later, when she knows they’ll both be home early. She spends the day pep-talking herself by writing positive comments in the margins of her class notes.

 _You’ve faced gods, bureaucracy and death. You can do this_ , she writes in block letters. Then below, in a softer script: _It’s Carmilla._

Laura gets home before Carmilla. She walks and feeds the dog and orders from their favorite Thai restaurant, because this night is stressful enough without either of them attempting to cook. 

When Carmilla gets through the door, Laura greets her with a high-pitched, “Hi!” and Carmilla enters the room with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s up?” she asks, already suspicious.

Laura motions for her to sit on the couch, handing Carmilla the glass of wine she poured an hour ago. “How was your day?”

“It was good. But you clearly need to talk about something.” Laura must be conveying her nervousness in a way that Carmilla finds cute rather than alarming, because she has that bemused expression on her face that Laura knows so well.

“I do,” Laura tells her. “Something that I’ve been twisting myself up over, rather than talking to you about.”

Carmilla nods, her amusement slipping into something more solemn. “I could kind of tell, but I figured you’d talk to me when you were ready.”

Laura takes a deep breath. She has a whole speech prepared, about how ready she thinks they could be, about how much she loves Carmilla, about how it’s not about vanity or cuteness, ultimately, but about how she knows they have so much love and goodness to offer a tiny human. She’s going to ease into it, she has transitions prepared—she practiced in front of the _mirror_ , for goodness sake. 

But then she looks into Carmilla’s eyes, and all she can say is, “I want a baby.”

Carmilla narrows her eyes, but her expression is otherwise unchanged. “You do?”

Laura nods. “Yeah.” She can feel those damn tears showing up again, and she feels herself bracing for the No. She twists her fingers together, looking down at them. “I really, really do. But I’ve been scared about what you would say, so…”

“Okay.”

Laura snaps her gaze back to Carmilla’s. “What?”

Carmilla is smiling, just a little bit, but her eyes are serious. “Okay. I—I would like that too, I think.”

“You would?”

“If you had asked me ten years ago—hell, even five years ago—I would have said no,” Carmilla tells her. “The idea of having a child when I myself could never grow old would be entirely ridiculous. But we’re in a really good place, and of course if I was going to have a baby with anyone, it would be you.”

“But—but—it’s a _baby_ ,” Laura sputters, incredulous. “Babies poop and scream and keep you from sleeping. You want that?”

“Yeah,” Carmilla says with a small laugh. “But it’s starting to sound like _you_ don’t.”

“I do!” Laura exclaims. “Weirdly, like, _a lot,_ all of a sudden. I just didn’t think you did.”

Carmilla shrugs. “I mean, most kids are little monsters, it’s true. But I have a feeling that ours would be pretty special. The world could use more people like you, people who actually care about making things better.”

Laura feels like she’s absolutely brimming with emotion, and the only way she can express it is to launch herself into Carmilla’s arms, who accepts her hug with a small, “Ooof!”

Laura pulls back and kisses Carmilla deeply. Or, well, she tries too, but she’s smiling too much for it to totally work.

“I love you,” she tells Carmilla when they pull apart. “I love you and I want to have a baby with you.”

“Sounds good to me, cupcake,” Carmilla says, eyes twinkling. 

“And I was thinking adoption, because while the idea of a baby that looks like you makes me happy, what _really_ makes me happy is the idea of giving a child in need a good home and we could—” Carmilla is smirking, and Laura cuts off her ramble. “We have time to figure it out,” she says, blushing slightly.

“We do,” Carmilla agrees. “But we have something to take care of first. And it’s important.”

Laura frowns. “What’s that?”

Carmilla takes her hand, dropping a kiss to it. 

"Laura Hollis, will you marry me?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I seriously thought this was going to be a oneshot, but after getting so much positive feedback I decided to see if there was more to the story, and turns out there was!
> 
> Not time for the baby yet, though, because as Carmilla said, she and Laura have something important to take care of.
> 
> Warning: this chapter is a little sad, but it does have a happy ending.

Laura doesn’t know how it happened, but somewhere along the line their wedding started to become a circus. 

Her dad might be partially to blame. When she told him over Skype that Carmilla had proposed, he clapped his hands together, proclaimed, “Finally!” and produced a yellow legal pad already covered in scribbled names. Pretty much every surviving family member made the list.

And then one of Laura’s favorite students noticed her engagement ring, and the list grew. Most of her students had seen Carmilla around campus—Laura was pretty sure half of them had a crush on Carmilla, but she couldn’t really blame them—and before Laura knew it she was inviting her English 203 class to the wedding as well.

Carmilla laughed when Laura guiltily confessed to her rogue invite that night in bed. “The more the merrier, I suppose,” she commented ruefully, letting her book drop into her lap.

“That phrase is like the antithesis of everything you believe,” Laura replied. “Are you okay with this?”

Carmilla shrugged, pulling off the reading glasses she still didn’t like to admit she needed. “I want to me married to you. I don’t care if we get married by Elvis in Vegas or in front of three hundred of your dad’s closest friends. I just want _you_.” She paused, frowning. “Though on second thought, let’s try to keep it under three hundred, okay?”

Laura nodded and slid a hand across Carmilla’s waist. “Under three hundred it is,” she promised, tugging Carmilla closer. “I love you a whole lot, you know that?”

Carmilla smiled as she wound a hand into Laura’s hair. “I had my suspicions. And I love you too. More than anything or anyone.”

Laura’s papers didn’t end up getting graded that night.

She did, however, manage to stick to her promise, though not as easily as expected. Once the students found out about Laura’s engagement, the entire faculty got curious. Carmilla’s editor at the online paper she writes for decided to throw Carmilla a bachelorette party, and suddenly the entire newspaper staff had made the list. 

Things are starting to feel a little out of control, but not in the way Laura is used to. The world isn’t ending; she just has to make decisions about center pieces. And side dishes. And how to make the event have a sense of tradition without feeling heteronormative. Carmilla helps, in her way, but planning has always been more Laura’s style.

She’s so wrapped up in wedding madness that she doesn’t even glance at her phone when it starts ringing one afternoon a week before the big day. She just picks it up without a second thought, but her blood runs cold when the person on the other end says, “We’re calling about your father. Something’s happened.”

\--

The “something” turns out to be a heart attack. Laura takes in this information between shallow breaths. Her body feels like it’s encased in ice; she’s both freezing and unable to move. She’s always tried to problem-solve in a crisis—she learned that from her dad—but in this moment she feels stuck.

She calls Carmilla as soon as she gets off the phone, repeating the necessary details in a voice that doesn’t sound like her own. Yes, he’s alive. No, he isn’t conscious. The neighbor found him. They don’t know if he needs surgery. It doesn’t look very good.

“I’ll come pick you up,” Carmilla tells her, and it’s only then that Laura realizes that there’s a place to be. She isn’t supposed to sit here and wait for news. She’s supposed to go to him. That’s one advantage of his move close by a few years back.

“You should stay at work,” Laura says, not sure why she’s suggesting that when all she wants right now is for Carmilla to hold her.

“No,” Carmilla insists, gently. “I’m coming home. I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”

Laura doesn’t protest. She hangs up and gets her bag together. It seems important to be ready as soon as Carmilla gets home. She doesn’t want to waste any time.

Carmilla engulfs her in the tightest hug when she gets in the door. “I love you,” she tells Laura. 

In this moment, it might be the only thing Laura’s certain of.

\--

Her dad looks bad, but not as bad as Laura envisioned. For some reason she pictured blood everywhere, despite this ailment being entirely internal. She thinks about his heart, has a brief flash to that moment in the pit when her own hovered before the Dean’s face, then to moments later when she heard Carmilla’s own heart beat for the first time.

Who would have thought that a journalism major’s life would be so haunted by human hearts?

“We don’t know much right now,” the doctor is telling them. “We want to monitor him overnight, but it’s likely he’ll need surgery.”

Laura nods from her spot beside her dad’s bed. She squeezes his hand, willing him to squeeze back even though she knows he won’t.

“Can he hear me?” she asks.

“No, he’s very heavily sedated,” the doctor tells them. “I’ll give you a few moments.”

Carmilla runs a hand over Laura’s shoulder from her spot standing behind her. “I don’t think she knows what she’s talking about,” Carmilla murmurs. “I bet he can hear you.”

“You think?” Laura asks, her voice tremulous with tears.

“Yeah,” Carmilla replies. “I’ll go get some coffee.” She bends down and presses a kiss to Laura’s cheek before stepping out of the room.

Laura sniffs. “Hey Dad,” she whispers. “You’ve looked better, I have to say. I’m—I’m really glad someone found you. And I’m sorry that you were alone. If— _when_ you wake up, I’m going to do a better job of making sure you don’t feel alone anymore. I’ve been so focused on this wedding, but that’s mostly because you’ve been so excited about it. And I love you for that. But I want to spend some time focused on you. Because I love you, so much. And I’m here.”

Laura would swear her dad’s hand twitches. She thinks that Carmilla must be right: that doctor clearly had no idea what she was talking about.

\--

Laura’s dad wakes up a few hours later, groggy and sore, but definitely himself. Laura is at his bedside, of course, with Carmilla.

“Dad!” Laura squeals.

“Hey sweeties,” he greets hoarsely. It makes Laura smile. Carmilla’s become like a second daughter to him after all these years.

“How’re you holding up, Sherman?” Carmilla asks.

He shrugs. “I’ve been better.”

Laura wants to hug him, but she doesn’t want to hurt him, so she settles for sitting up on the bed and taking both of his hands. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“Me too, kiddo,” he replies. His voice is thin in a way that makes Laura’s own chest hurt.

The doctor comes in then, all business. “Glad to see you’re awake. We need to run some tests.”

Quickly, it’s determined that surgery will be required. Of the open-heart variety. Laura feels nauseous at the news. She thinks about the swatches of different tablecloth colors on her computer. How stupid and frivolousness that seems, now.

Her dad looks pensive when the doctor tells him, but Laura can tell he’s trying to be strong. “The sooner the better,” the doctor announces. Which means, apparently, tomorrow.

Laura doesn’t let herself full-on cry in front of her dad. She waits until he’s talking to the doctor, then excuses herself to sob against the coffee cart. Carmilla is just a few steps behind her, and says nothing, just holds her tightly for a few minutes.

“I don’t want him to die,” Laura snuffles, which sounds pitiful and obvious to her ears.

Carmilla, for her part, says, “I know.” God, how many people has Carmilla lost? And still, she holds Laura as she grieves.

Laura pulls back, letting Carmilla gently wipe beneath her eyes with her shirtsleeve.

“I don’t want to get married without him there,” Laura says quietly. “But that seems so stupid right now.”

“It isn’t stupid,” Carmilla assures her.

“I just—I’d made peace with the fact that my mom wouldn’t be here,” Laura murmurs. “But my _dad—”_ Her voice cracks on the word. “And here I am crying, when you…”

“Cupcake, stop,” Carmilla instructs softly. “Our situations are entirely different. Your dad is supposed to be at your wedding.” She smiles, just a little. “And I think I know how we can make that happen.”

\--

Laura will absolutely give credit where credit is due: when the pressure is on, Carmilla can come up with a plan.

She calls Laura’s friend Jennifer, who’s been set to perform the ceremony, and informs her that the plan has changed. Jennifer arrives an hour later with four bouquets of flowers, an armful of Christmas lights, and Laura and Carmilla’s wedding outfits.

“You don’t have the license yet, but it’ll be symbolic,” Jennifer tells them. “Now, go get ready! I’ll set everything up.” 

Laura does as she’s told, changing into the simple white dress she selected a few weeks ago while Carmilla gets into her white suit. (It’s not really a suit—more like a flowy pant and shirt set that Carmilla had insisted upon. “I’ll wear white, or I’ll wear a dress, but I’m not wearing a white dress,” Carmilla told her at the time. Laura had no complaints after seeing Carmilla in the outfit. She’d been superstitious about them seeing one another for about five seconds, before realizing they’d gone through way too much to worry about wedding luck.)

After getting dressed, Laura runs down to the vending machine and asks a nurse to buy her a Rice Krispies Treat.

“I’ll pay for it and I’ll give it back,” she explains when the woman initially says no. “It’s just that I’m getting married, and I need something borrowed. And it’s also blue, and new, but probably actually pretty old, given the state of that vending machine.”

The nurse raises an eyebrow at her.

“Which is not at all a commentary on this charming and totally up-to-date hospital! I really appreciate everything you’re doing.”

The nurse relents.

Laura finds that she’s running on some combination of denial, adrenaline, and a little bit of heartache that doesn’t entirely present itself until she arrives back to her dad’s room. But when she does, she immediately bursts into tears.

Jennifer has done a tremendous job. The place is decked out in flowers and twinkly lights. How she convinced the nurses, Laura will never know. Two strangers—the witnesses; nice looking people likely visiting their own family—are standing quietly in the corner of the room. The Wedding March is playing from Jennifer’s phone, and Laura’s dad is actually sitting up in bed, smiling.

And there’s Carmilla, radiant and soft, looking pretty emotional herself. “Here we go, my love,” she says when she sees Laura.

Jennifer clears her throat. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

Laura doesn’t register much after that. She doesn’t think she’s ever felt so much at once. Her two favorite people in the world are here: one, committing her life to Laura; the other, possibly at the end of his own. And she loves them, and she would do anything for them.

“Laura?” Jennifer prompts.

“I do,” she replies without hesitation. _I do. I do. I do._

\--

An hour or so later, Jennifer and the witnesses have cleared out. Laura sits with Carmilla beside her father’s bed, intertwined and in love, but at the same time jumpy with worry. 

“I’m sorry this was your wedding day,” Laura’s father tells them. “I know this wasn’t what any of us pictured.”

“Hey, I didn’t want the big wedding anyway,” Carmilla quips. “You saved me a lot of hours of small talk.”

Laura smacks her arm good-naturedly. “We’ll have a real party to celebrate.” She turns to her dad, voice softening. “And you’ll be there, of course.”

He sighs. “I sure hope so. But if I’m not…”

“No!” Laura says sharply. “No goodbye talk. I love you and you love me and you’re going to make it. End of discussion.”

“Laura…”

“Dad.”

They exhale at the same time. Laura studies the lines of his face. His skin looks almost translucent. Her dad has never looked so weak. 

She doesn’t want to see that.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Laura announces, jumping up and skittering into the single-stall bathroom.

She lets the water run, pressing her ear against the door. “I just need her to know…” her dad is saying quietly.

“I know,” Carmilla replies. “I’ll tell her.”

“You’re a good kid, Carmilla. Best person I ever could have dreamed of for Laura.”

“Thank you, Sherman.”

There’s a long pause, and then, “You know that I love you, right?”

“I…I do. And I…”

“I know, kid, I know.”

(Laura thinks she might actually dehydrate from crying today.)

\--

They come home, briefly, to sleep for a bit and shower. Then the next day, it's back at the hospital bright and early back for surgery day.

“We’re married,” Laura comments in wonder as they go through the sliding doors. “How weird is that?”

“I’d say it’s pretty cool, personally,” Carmilla replies with a smirk.

There isn’t time for much more discussion before the surgery. Laura’s grateful for that. She doesn’t think she could handle another attempt at a goodbye talk. Before she knows it her dad’s being whisked away, and the waiting begins.

It feels endless. They get to know every inch of the waiting area, the locations of each coffee cart and vending machine, the cover stories of all the magazines. Laura cannot sit still, and Carmilla follows where she goes. Every time a door swings open Laura is at attention, waiting for her father’s serious-faced doctor to come marching over to them. 

Finally, hours later, she does.

“It went well,” she tells them mildly, as though that isn’t the most fantastic news Laura’s heard in who knows how long. “He has a long recovery ahead of him, but it looks like he’s out of the woods for now.”

Laura yelps in excitement and hugs the doctor, who startles backward with a grim smile. Carmilla is much more accepting of the hug, tugging Laura tightly against her.

“He’s alive,” Laura whispers.

“I heard,” Carmilla replies, but she can’t keep the smile out of her voice.

Laura’s dad has to be in the ICU overnight, but the doctor feels optimistic. He wakes up the next morning in pain but healing. Laura feels like her heart is singing.

\--

On the day she was supposed to get married, Laura helps her dad move back into his house. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she tells him. It’s the truth. 

They make sure he’s all set up, with his food, medication and entertainment. Laura wants to spend the night, but a neighbor offers to do it instead. 

“You should get some sleep,” her dad instructs sternly. She begrudgingly agrees.

With a last wave to her dad, Laura and her wife—her _wife!_ —walk back to the car hand-in-hand.

He’s going to be okay. She can feel it.

Then Carmilla starts the car, and they begin the journey back home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure this will be the last chapter for now, though I may publish some outtakes at some point. Thanks for reading!

They’ve been waiting for what feels like forever.

Laura knew, at the beginning of the adoption process, that it could take anywhere from two days to two years—or beyond. It’s a phrase she’s incorporated into part of her regular roster of phrases, anytime someone inquires about her and Carmilla’s adoption status. 

“You never know when the call will come,” their adoption caseworker has told them more than once. “So don’t lose faith.”

Easier said than done. At the beginning of all of this, Laura was full of optimism and enthusiasm. They’re keeping their options open, and despite the rather unusual circumstances she and Carmilla have frequently found themselves in, they look pretty good on paper at this point. Both with steady jobs and actual human heartbeats. 

“What I’m saying is, I’d pick us,” Laura told Carmilla with a smile.

But then weeks dragged into months, and months ticked by until a year had passed, and before Laura knows it, they’ve been waiting for the elusive call for one year, four months, and nine days. 

Not that she’s counting.

Carmilla’s good at keeping perspective. It’s the former-vampire in her. 

“When we’re changing that kid’s thousandth diaper, a year and some change of waiting is hardly going to make a difference," she tells Laura one day when she’s feeling particularly discouraged.

“We don’t even know that we’ll end up with a baby at this point!” Laura points out. A few months ago, they expanded their options to include slightly older kids, in the hopes that it might increase their chances. 

She flops down on the couch, mouth twisted into a pout. “We don’t even know that we’ll end up with a kid, period.”

“We will,” Carmilla assures her, wrapping an arm around Laura’s shoulders as she sits down beside her. 

Laura is quiet for a moment, reveling in the comfort of Carmilla’s hand combing through her hair, of the matching sheen of their weddings bands as their fingers knit together. “How can you be so calm?” she asks in a small voice.

Carmilla exhales against her forehead. “Well, I haven’t been a mom for well over three hundred years. I figure—what’s one more?”

Laura nods, but she can’t help but find the answer frustrating. Mostly because it’s so hard for her to relate to.

Carmilla must pick up on that, because she adds, almost in a whisper, “And I haven’t let myself really feel how much I want this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Carmilla confirms. “Because I’m pretty sure if I did, I’d become a little obsessed.”

“Like me,” Laura supplies.

“Mmm hmm. Wanting good things for myself…that was never exactly encouraged. Until I met you.”

Laura feels her heart ache in that way it always does when Carmilla mentions before. She thinks about the broken shell in the alternate world, about the emptiness and loneliness Carmilla carried inside her for so long.

God, they really do have it so good now, when she thinks about it. 

She tilts her head up toward Carmilla’s and kisses her softly. “We can wait,” she breathes against Carmilla’s lips when they pull apart.

Carmilla nods. “It shouldn’t be too much longer now.”

\--

No sooner has Laura made peace with the idea of waiting then they get the call. A young pregnant woman named Polly saw their profile and wants to meet with them. They set a date and time for her to come over, and the morning of Laura is so nervous she nearly throws up.

Carmilla is nervous too, Laura can tell, but it mostly manifests in her getting quiet and a little more irritable. They’re both in such a state that for most of the morning they kind of avoid each other.

But then something happens when Polly arrives: it’s like all the nervous energy floats away or changes, and suddenly Laura feels okay, like she’s getting her sea legs after trying to stand on a boat all day. Polly is sweet and shy, only eighteen, and she keeps smiling shyly at Carmilla in a way that Laura finds pretty endearing.

It doesn’t take much detective work for Laura to figure out that Polly is closeted—that, in fact, she and her gay best friend slept together in a last-ditch effort at heterosexuality, and that’s how she ended up pregnant. Her family is fairly conservative, though, hence the secrecy and her decision to carry the baby to term.

“I just…I feel like I connect with you guys,” Polly says after they’ve been chatting for a while. “You seem like really cool people.”

“Thank you,” Laura replies, taking Carmilla’s hand. She can feel hope rising. “Carm would do anything for the people she loves. And so would I.”

“I can tell,” Polly murmurs. “My parents might not like that I want to give my baby to two women, but I don’t care.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Carmilla asks softly.

Polly smiles. “Yeah. I choose you.”

Laura thinks her face might just split from grinning too hard.

\--

Polly goes into labor on a Saturday. Carmilla and Laura go to the hospital, and the last few hours of waiting somehow feel like the longest stretch of this entire process. Laura thinks about waiting during her dad’s surgery, about the way her stomach sloshed every time a door opened. This time her stomach is still sloshing, but for a different reason.

Finally the doctor comes in with a smile on his face, and announces, “It’s a girl. Would you like to meet her?”

Laura and Carmilla both nod eagerly, practically running past the doctor into Polly’s room, where she’s holding the baby. She looks incredibly worn out, and is definitely crying, and for one terrible second Laura is certain that she’s changed her mind.

But then her face lights up when she sees Laura and Carmilla, and she extends the baby toward them. “Wanna hold her?”

Carmilla nods, stepping forward and gingerly lifting the baby into her arms. Laura peers around to look at her and— _wow._

Laura’s heard that babies are miracles and all that, but she doesn’t think she’s ever believed it until she looks at the face of her yawning, wrinkly-faced, truly magnificent daughter. Her hair is dark, like Carm’s, and her eyes are bright blue.

“She’s amazing,” Laura breathes. She looks at Carmilla, who has tears streaming down her face.

“Yeah, she is,” Carmilla replies.

Laura tears her eyes away to walk over to Polly, who looks a bit shell-shocked. “You okay?” she asks.

Polly nods. “I will be.”

Laura impulsively pulls Polly into a gentle hug, repeating over and over again, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

\--

Three days later, Baby Girl Hollis-Karstein is home and absolutely perfect, but she still doesn’t have a name.

She does, however, have two mothers who are completely in love with her, who have already bought her four hats and who both wake up in the night to rock her back to sleep, even though they swear they’ll trade off.

But no name seems quite right. Laura likes the idea of incorporating her mom’s name somehow, but she doesn’t want that to be their daughter’s first name. And she wants to honor Polly, too. She and Carmilla spend an afternoon trying out different names from a website, but none of them quite fit.

One night, when Baby Girl Hollis-Karstein wakes in the night, Laura tries out a few more names as she bottle-feeds her. 

“Eva. Beverly. Susanna. Olivia.” 

Baby Girl blinks up at her.

Laura shakes her head. “I agree. None of those are right.”

The door to the nursery opens behind them and Carmilla steps inside tiredly, her sleepy face illuminated by the little fish nightlight.

“Carm, you can go back to sleep,” Laura whispers. “It’s my turn.”

Carmilla shrugs, stretching. “Well, I’m up now. Might as well stay with you guys.” She looks at their daughter. “How is she?”

“She’s good, I think. Hungry,” Laura replies. “And she needs a name.”

Carmilla smirks. “Aw, we’re not going to stick with Baby Girl Hollis-Karstein? I think it has a nice ring to it.”

“I’m serious,” Laura replies with mock-sternness.

“I know. It’s just hard to be serious at three-forty-two in the morning,” Carmilla quips, eyeing the clock on the wall.

“You used to always be awake at this hour!” Laura points out.

“I also used to drink blood,” Carmilla retorts. “Things change, cutie.”

Laura looks down at their daughter, nursing happily from the bottle in Laura’s hand. “Yeah. They sure do.”

Carmilla slides up behind her, dropping her chin to Laura’s shoulder so she can gaze at the baby. “So. What’ll we name the kid?” Laura doesn’t respond; an idea is forming. “Laura?”

“What about Matilda?” Laura suggests suddenly.

“Matilda?”

“Like the character,” Laura continues. “She’s strong and brave, and she loves to read.”

Laura can actually feel Carmilla smirk against the back of her neck. “Does this all come back to your enormous crush on Miss Honey?”

“No, though she was my first love,” Laura replies fondly. “But what do you think?”

Carmilla seems to consider for a moment, before replying. “I like it.” Laura smiles as Carmilla adds, “Though she’ll need a nickname. Three syllables is a lot for such a little person.”

Laura takes a breath. This idea just came to her too. “We can call her Mattie.” When Carmilla is quiet, she adds, “Is that okay?”

“I think that’s just about perfect,” Carmilla says quietly. “But you said you wanted to honor both Polly and your mom, right? Polly and Anne…could her middle name be Pollyanne?”

“Is that even a name?” Laura asks.

Carmilla shrugs against Laura’s back. “Beats me. But you have been known to be a bit of a Pollyanna at times.”

“Matilda Pollyanne Hollis-Karnstein,” Laura tries out. “I kind of like the sound of that.”

“I kind of really like the sound of that,” Carmilla replies. She steps around to Laura’s front, carefully scooping the baby out of Laura’s arms. “Hey, little Mattie, you finally have a name. And you're going to have such a happy life.” 

She glances up at Laura. “I’m surprised you’re not rushing for the camera. Baby’s first picture with a name, and all that. Y’know, for posterity.”

Laura shakes her head. Her heart feels so full as she looks at her little family. They worked so hard to get here, but they made it. They actually made it.

“Posterity can bite me,” Laura replies, embracing her wife and daughter. “I have better things to do.” 


End file.
